Row by row they passed, young, straight and true to their wish to serve when their nation called. Into battle they went. When war was done, they returned. All gave some. Some gave all.

Each year they gathered to remember those who gave all. As is the way with time, their ranks grew less, their walk less straight. They reminisced their time with those who had joined their friends in life eternal.

Eventually all will pass. I imagine them again marching straight and true once more united. They’ll not be forgotten.

We will remember them and what they have given when we say, “Lest we forget.”

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Here in Australia I spent our equivalent day, ANZAC Day, filming ceremonies in three towns so I could donate DVDs to the veterans. I know so few of my father’s old WWII battalion are still with us and imagined how they must feel to see their dwindling numbers.